


Elladan's Nightmare

by orphan_account



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Heavy Angst, Nightmares, Terrifying Tolkien Week, Torture, ttww
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5070730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elladan goes on a mission to rescue his mother. He is just a moment too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elladan's Nightmare

Blood. Blood everywhere. Blood on the stone walls illuminated by torchlight, blood on the dark ground, splattered among the skulls and bones of various animals, large and small. Before, by the entrance, Elladan had only seen some specks of brown here and there. A few drops of dried blood, nothing more.

The further into the chamber he went, though, the worse the scene got. As he got closer to his goal, the droplets turned to smears, then large patches. And it was crimson, no longer brown. Blood had been spilt not long ago, and no small quantity of it either.

His insides turned to ice as he looked at the macabre scene surrounding him. It was starting to sink in: Terrible suffering had occurred here, anguish that was most certainly deadly. Hardly any elf could lose this much of their life-force and not pass into Mandos's halls. A single thought seized his mind—to find his mother.

"Naneth?" he called out desperately.

No answer. After having inspected some marks on the ground, Elladan lifted himself up and moved in the direction of a tunnel to his left. He knew where to go now, yet he still needed to make sure he was following the path by illuminating the footprints on the ground. Footprints amongst other evidence that he could not focus on without breaking down.

Finally, he saw something. It could be her... a dark mass on the ground at the end of the tunnel. The torchlight didn’t reach far enough to tell, so Elladan couldn't be sure if it was even his mother or just the remains of a prisoner long dead. He dared not let his thoughts stray in that direction.

Slowly, with footsteps as light as snow, he moved closer and close to the scene. A glint of his flame against metal revealed two large chains hanging from rings on the wall, leading to the pile of fabric.

"It could be her," he thought. "It must be Naneth."

He quickened his pace, hoping so desperately that she was still alive. It felt as if his entire existence rested on that hope. He stopped abruptly as his whole body hit an invisible barrier. There was nothing tangible barring his path, yet an invisible force refused to let him continue. Elladan pushed and beat against the unseen wall, but it would not give.

He froze in shock as he heard a bat suddenly fly away from its resting place above him. No sooner did the sound of flapping wings die down than Elladan heard heavy footsteps approaching, from a side tunnel it seemed. Several sets of footsteps. The group coming towards him were all wearing ironshod boots. That could only mean one thing.

Having been in deadly situations before, he didn't panic, but instead thought out his options. Going forward to retrieve his mother and retreat was impossible—he could go no further. On the other hand, he refused to leave without her, as there was no guarantee of being able to return. So only one possibility remained:to stand his ground and fight.

All of a sudden the source of the footsteps erupted from a side tunnel, whose opening was between him and what he assumed was his mother’s form. A small group of orcs. Fell and terrifying they were, carrying many weapons on themselves. Yet each orc held only one one, a blunt heavy axe. The disgusting creatures never saw the elf just meters behind them. Breathlessly he watched as they turned right and walked towards the end of the cave, to where those imprisoning chains hung.

Realizing what their destination must be, cold dread descended into the pit of his stomach, and Elladan started screaming, overcome by feelings of fear, anger, and grief. To his utter surprise, the monsters gave no indication of having heard him. Instead they kept marching purposefully, reaching the pile of clothes the same instant as Elladan stopped screaming.

The breath was knocked out of him as a feeling of overwhelming powerlessness sunk in. He couldn't move to stop them, nor even get their attention. Helplessly he watched as the orcs pulled up what was lying on the ground. It was indeed his mother, completely unconscious. She had been folded in on herself in such a way that only her worn, bloody cloak had been visible before. Fear gripped Elladan as he watched them lift their axes and start hacking at her.

At first strike she came to, with a cry of pain so shrill it could have damaged a mortal's hearing. On and on she screamed as her body was mangled, mutilated—destroyed. At her legs and arms they aimed first, severing them bit by bit. Blood squirted everywhere: on the ground, on the walls, on the filthy beasts themselves (though they seemed not to mind one bit), and even on Celebrian's hair, which used to be a cascade of liquid gold, but was now matted and crimson with blood.

Her voice became hoarse from screaming, and she went into shock not long after. Elladan too was mute now, his voice probably gone forever. He had dropped his torch long ago. All he could do was give in to insanity, screaming silently with a river of tears flowing down his face as he beat at the invisible wall separating him from his mother. Finally, the axe came down on her head, breaking her skull open, letting its contents spill out...

* * *

Elladan's eyes flew open as he felt the reverberating sting of a strong slap on his right cheek. It was all a dream, he registered slowly while continuing to scream for a moment. Only after he realized where he was and what was happening did he stop. He was lying on his bed, the room much brighter than before as everyone who was inside—his siblings, his father, several of the servants—held a candle.

All of their faces shared the same expressions of worry and concern. He felt a tickling sensation on his face and, bringing his hand up to investigate, discovered it completely wet with tears. As he paused to register this, he was warmly embraced by his father. The gesture almost allowed him to relax—almost.

"She sailed, son. She's across the sea. Nothing can harm her now."


End file.
